Commiseration for a Cloud
by flubi
Summary: He just wanted to bake, but it seemed his second life would end up being a whole lot more complicated. trans!oc
1. beginning

He woke up. He woke up and knew everything was wrong. But his grasp slipped away, and he drifted back to sleep.

* * *

The second time he remembered waking up, it was quick but pungent. Smeared all along the walls of his mind.

Two figures stood above him. So much bigger than he thought possible. The hands reaching towards him were made all the more terrifying because of it. But his panicked thoughts were hushed by the overwhelming feelings of love and protection.

He fell asleep in the reaching arms. Aware he was cared for, giants or not.

* * *

He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment he became aware full time. He was sure it was a gradual thing, because how else could he explain it.

He actually couldn't explain anything. He was an infant. That was all he knew for certain. It certainly made sense.

Everything was huge. He was fed mashed up food. His eyes failed to focus on anything for too long. He opened his mouth and only babbles came out. He felt the constant need to be held and coddled. He could barely control control his bladder. All factors that pointed towards being an infant or a really, _really _short old man.

The former was preferred to the latter. He would hate to suddenly wake up older and having forgotten everything that had happened since he turned twenty-three. What a story that would be to tell.

Luckily, (or not, depending on your view) he was right.

* * *

"_Renata_! Look _a papà!_" He blinked at the man crouched on all fours, eye level with him. He had a few theories. One, Renata was his name, two this man was his father, and three, they lived in Italy. Or at least somewhere that spoke italian.

He reached forward and tried to grab his father's cheek, but missed and grabbed his nose instead. It still had the intended effect of making his father explode with joy, gushing in rapid italian.

His father scooped him up and mashed their cheeks together. Overall an unpleasant experience, his father had a rough five o'clock shadow. He pushed his pudgy hand against his father's cheek and only succeeded in pausing the cheek rubbing.

"_La mia bambina! Così indipendente!_" He frowned. He may not know a lot of italian, but anything ending in a, in a romance language usually meant it was feminine. And his father was talking about him, he was sure of it. He let his head loll down, he's never seen his lower half unclothed.

He was wearing a golden onesie, neither feminine or masculine. Hm. Next time he took a bath, he'd make sure to stay awake rather than giving into the warm lull of the water.

* * *

He had the body of a girl. And wasn't that a weird revelation. One of the easiest so far to accept.

There wasn't anything he could do to change anything yet. He wasn't able to vocalize his thoughts, only able to babble. His vocal cords hadn't developed enough yet, so decided to wait. He took on the name Renata for now, he could always change it legally later, or give himself the nickname Wren.

He was good at waiting after all.

* * *

Wren rolled onto his stomach and stared up at his mother. It was certainly odd that he saw his father more than he had his mother.

He found out it was because his mother helped run a bakery with her best friend. He didn't begrudge her, he was well aware of the stresses and responsibilities of adulthood. He was satisfied with the amount of affection he received from his stay-at-home-father, and his mother always held him whenever she could.

Wren's forgiveness was gifting her with his first word.

His mother cried when he stumbled over a quiet _mamma_. His vocal cords had matured just enough to surprise her. Wren ignored his pouting father. This moment was for mamma.

* * *

Wren allowed papà to take pictures of his first steps, aware papà wanted to share it with a busy mamma. The bakery had experienced a boom in customers.

* * *

Wren's first sentence was him asking to help mamma bake a cake for papà's birthday. He'll admit, he wasn't much help in the kitchen, but he made a valiant attempt at stirring the batter. (Mamma smeared some icing on his nose. Then attempted to stir the batter without him seeing, and it would've worked if he was a normal toddler. That icing was _amazing_.)

The cake was great, and mamma let him draw a wobbly smiley face on the cake. And honestly, that day was the best he'd had in so long.

But by asking to help with the cake, he had unknowingly set himself on a one way train heading straight for the mafia.

* * *

If Wren wasn't used to wearing feminine clothes, he would've rioted at wearing a frilly, pink dress. But he was, and his only problem with it was that it clashed with his hair and eyes. White hair, brown eyes, and a pink dress wasn't exactly peak fashion.

Mamma said she'd only take him to work with her if he wore the cute dress. Wren really wanted to go with mamma to work, so he caved easily. He really wanted to see mamma's home away from home, the place where she spent the majority of her time. A natural curiosity.

The trip to the bakery was relatively short, only a twenty minute walk from home. It would be shorted it he wasn't so set on walking on his own. Mamma giggling behind him as she shortened her stride. He would've pouted if he wasn't already aware of how adorable he looked.

The shop was about the size he had imagined, big. Maybe he was a little biased because of his height. The second thing he noticed was the smell that wafted out from the kitchens. It was heavenly, and made him never want to leave.

For the first few hours he had sat obediently out of the way, observing and occasionally speaking with the customers. Eventually he'd had his fill of that and slipped off of the counter to go find mamma. She was in the middle of kneading dough, focused on her work. He waited until she got to a stopping point, then tugged on her apron.

Mamma seemed to understand what he wanted and lifted him up onto the counter. He sat off to the side and listened to mamma explain what she was doing and making. Even if he couldn't understand half of what she was saying, he was enraptured.

Wren got his first taste of real baking there, and never let go.

* * *

**A/N: ahaha so i'm trying to break away from my habit of making my si-ocs blind, all-knowing, or both. this was inspired by a bad skull27 fic. what flame type do you think wren has? oc is not Reborn. **

**transphobic comments will not be tolerated.**

translations:

a papà- at dad

la mia bambina- my little girl

così indipendente- so independent


	2. baking your way to the top

**A/N: wren hasn't really come out of the closet yet, so there's some misgendering happening.**

* * *

"Mamma, papá, can I wear more...shor-shorts?" It was easy to learn italian, his brain soaked it up easily. The hard part was vocalizing himself, using the correct tense and conjugation of verbs. Not to mention his untrained tongue.

"Sure, Renata! _Però _what _portato _this on?" Papá commented brightly, chopping vegetables for soup. Wren slowly pieced the question together. He leaned back against the pillow and slowly formulated his response.

"I like-prefer, moving in them." Wren paused, parsing through his vocabulary for the italian word for skirt. "Skirts, mo-get in the way."

"_Capisco _what you mean, Renata." Mamma smiled and pat his head. Now that he thought of it, he'd never seen mamma in a skirt. It made sense. Mamma was constantly whirling around the kitchen, bending over, and reaching around. Skirts would get in the way in a job like that.

* * *

"The correct way to make Zeppole is to mix the batter on low heat, anymore than that and you'll burn it." Rosa slowly mixed the batter, grinning at her daughter's rapt attention. Renata leaned forward, almost comically so, only stopping when she nudged her back.

"Combining the ingredients is the most complicated part of the recipe," Renata scrunched her nose, the face she makes when trying to puzzle out the meaning of a word. She wondered what word it was this time. Her smart little girl.

"But you stir in the pan, until the ingredients are mixed together completely, and the batter is sticky." Rosa lifted the wooden spoon, demonstrating the texture. Renata's face turned to wonder at the sight.

"Now, we'll transfer the batter to a separate bowl." Rosa deftly flicked the oven off, then dumped the batter into a mixing bowl. Renata leaned over and looked at the batter.

"What's next mamma?" Rosa handed her daughter a spoon. Renata looked at her with confusion. What a cute daughter she had!

"We're going to scoop the dough into tablespoon sized balls, and then fry them." Rosa demonstrated for her daughter. Renata caught on fast.

Rosa may not be experienced in children, but she knew her daughter was abnormal. No ordinary child picked up instructions or vocabulary so fast. Children were content to play with toys, but Renata just wanted to learn. Never mind the intelligent glint in her eyes.

If she had been a coward, she would've given up her daughter at the first sign of abnormality. But she wasn't, and wholeheartedly embraced her child's strangeness.

* * *

"Hello! Welcome to _Rosa e Nebbia's_ cafe!" Wren automatically spouted when he heard the bell chime. He sat at the counter, watching the till while mamma pulled out the tiramisu. It was a boring job, right in between breakfast and lunch.

Wren perked up when he saw a middle aged man surrounded by a few people in suits. That wasn't a rare sight, just not common. Mamma usually handled these people, but she was occupied in the back. He glanced back and saw no sign that she was going to come forward. She was probably too busy to notice the arrivals.

Wren turned around and smiled at the men.

"Hi! Mamma's in the back han-handling the tira-tiramisu. I can help you!" Wren slathered on the over-eager toddler persona. There was an element of truth to it, but it was best to play into what they were expecting.

"Oh, thank you miss. Please allow us another moment to decide." The Leader told him. Wren grinned and sat back down on the stool. He was treating him pretty well, something not always guaranteed when dealing with Suits.

The Suits discussed their order's among themselves then turned to him. He quickly filled out the form mamma made for him, when she realized how much Wren wanted to help. Wren only needed to check off the items and write the total of that item off to the side. It wasn't a perfect system. Mamma didn't know he knew how to handle money, let alone add and subtract.

The system largely depended on people being honest with a toddler, and enough profits during that day to make up for any errors. But Suits were generally honest, having enough money to spare, and strangely okay with a toddler taking their orders. (He would later learn about the Arcobaleno, or really, the general weirdness of the mafia.)

* * *

Change doesn't happen overnight. Baking was an art he just couldn't seem to nail down. Sure, everything he made was amazing, but it was never as good as mamma's. He could blame some of his mess ups on his chubby three year old fingers. Or the fact that he couldn't stop comparing himself to his mamma.

It made him curious as to where this urge to strive for perfection came from. He couldn't remember his past life. How he lived or died. He only knew textbook knowledge, basic life skills, and that this wasn't normal.

Sometimes he stayed up late and wondered who he was before this life. Was he also born a girl? Did he have a family? Any pets? Someone to love and hold?

Why was he like this.

* * *

Wren was currently running errands for _Rosa e Nebbia_, mamma was too busy in the shop to deliver the one or two to-go orders, and Risma was catering for a party. So Wren was sent out.

Normally he'd be worried for a parent's sanity if they sent their three year old out to deliver orders. But Wren knew his mamma. Mamma acknowledged that he was more than he seemed and his fierce need for independence. Besides, he was only delivering cookies to one of papà's friends.

So mamma had very little to worry about. Or so he thought.

Wren knew the way to papà's friends house by heart, having gone there a variety of times when neither parent could watch him (which was rare, papà was a stay at home parent). Wren could never remember his name. Wren shrugged, it must not be that important then.

Wren quickly rounded the turn, and shifted the box of cookies and glanced around. Then again.

Two groups of people were firing guns at each other. He blinked when he saw flames flying. Wren carefully shifted the box in his hands so he could rub his eyes. He blinked his eyes and the rainbow assortment of flames were still there.

Wren was about to turn around and leave when a bullet hit the ground at his feet. Shards of concrete and dust flew up and slashed up his shins. The box fell from his grip and he was helpless to stop his knees from giving out.

At the sound of the box falling to the ground and bursting open, some turned to him and their guns followed. Fear flooded his body, adrenaline following not long after. One pulled the trigger.

_He was going to die again._

Something unlocked and burst open.

* * *

**però, portato- but, brought**

**capisco- (I) understand**

**the current arcobaleno we love and know aren't active yet, they're alive, but not active. the previous generation of arcobaleno just cycled out.**

**any last stabs at what wren's dying will flame is? it's going to be revealed next chapter, but i wanna see what you think.**

**thanks to: **LadyStormCloud **and** karin angel **for reviewing! and everyone else for following and favoriting!**


	3. you need something life changing

Recap:

_At the sound of the box falling to the ground and bursting open, some turned to him and their guns followed. Fear flooded his body, adrenaline following not long after. One pulled the trigger._

_He was going to die again._

_Something unlocked and burst open._

* * *

Wren felt like he just woke up.

Slowly he looked around, piecing together where he was.

A bed. A closet. A dresser. A collection of rocks. A door. Black flames.

He passed out.

* * *

Wren woke up and curled in on himself. Intense pain was radiating from his abdomen. He gasped and clawed at his chest, trying to soothe the ache.

He coughed and nearly threw up. It felt like there was a hole in his chest, slowly growing. Consuming everything its edges touched, expanding until it felt like his whole chest was empty. He was dying, he realized.

He detachedly thought, better to die than feel this pain.

As his vision started to black out, he saw an inky blackness in front of him that grew.

* * *

"This is quite odd, never before has a civilian awakened night flames."

"Yes, I wonder how they came to attain them. It is not easy."

"Hm. We will interrogate them when they wake up."

"Understood, Bermuda."

* * *

Wren woke up groggily for the fourth time that day. And the cold hard floor did him no favors. He pushed himself up and tried not to panic at what he saw.

His hands were chained, leading to the back of the cell. The cell was filthy. And on the other side of the bars stood two mummies. Mummies dressed in black overcoats, top hats, and chains.

He blinked, maybe he was hallucinating? It would certainly make sense with the day he's been having. Maybe his whole day had been just a really bad nightmare, and any moment mamma and papá would wake him up. Wren bit his cheek.

He paled, this wasn't a nightmare. It was real, and he was chained up in a jail cell. The two mummies seemed to be considering him, and he latched onto that. If they were taking this time to observe him while he chained, without taunting or hurt him, chances were they wouldn't at all. Wren waited warily or them to make the next move. They had the power here.

The silence was maintained for another few minutes until the taller-not-baby-one spoke up. (One of them was a baby, how'd he fail to notice that?)

"Child what is your name." It wasn't a request, and he was in no position to resist.

"Wren." But he didn't say which or how much. The taller one nodded.

"Wren, are you aware of what dying will flames are?" Wren furrowed his brows and shook his head. That phrase was not familiar to him at all. What did it mean? And why was it important to the mummies. (God, he was being chained and questioned by a pair of mummies. This has got to be stranger than anything else he has ever experienced, especially in his forgotten life.)

"I see. It seems you have come to independently possess night flames, the rarest of the dying will flames." Wren blinked in confusion. None of this was making sense to him, dying will flames? Night flames? Independently possess? What did it all mean? He just wanted answers.

"Dying will flames are highly dense form of energy, originating from your life force. There are seven common ones, storm, sky, sun, lightning, rain, cloud, and mist. However, night flames can only be obtained by special individuals. Individuals who have defied death." Wren gasped.

He didn't know what to say. He knew this wasn't his first life, but he remembered almost nothing about it. The mummy-man could be wrong, maybe he didn't have the night flame and this was all just a big joke. (What a terrible joke.) Defying death sounds nothing like him! He was just an ordinary boy (who Remembered).

Wren felt the mummies' heavy gaze on him. He just wanted to leave, go back to mamma and papá.

"So tell me, how did you obtain night flames." Wren gave in.

"For as long as I have been alive, I knew this wasn't my first life," Wren kept his eyes on his chained hands. "All I know about my previous life is that I was a boy and I died. I can't remember how or when. I know nothing personal, I have no memories. I only know anything you would learn in school or from experience." Wren drew his hands in closer to his body and looked at the grimy floor in front of him.

"I've done my best to be a good child or mamma and papà, they deserve a normal child. But I promise you I did nothing to get these 'night flames' and it is purely accidental that I have them." The taller mummy sighed. Wren's eyes snapped up, watching the two cautiously. In horror movies, this was typically when the hostage was disposed of. After they'd spilled all of their intel.

"It seems this is more complicated than we first thought, Bermuda." More complicated? He should be saying that. He was the one chained in a cell, be questioned about how he got a soul fire that could only come about from defying death. God, he was barely stopping himself from freaking out, if only because they might get so annoyed with him, _that they would just kill him_.

"Indeed." The baby spoke up for the first time, and immediately he got the sense that the baby was _not _a baby. His head tilted at the feeling.

"What should we do Bermuda?"

* * *

**"Wren, is under the protection of the Vindice until they reach their Age of Majority. Any actions made against Wren will be treated as an attack against the Vindice. Spread the word. Any violators will be punished accordingly."** Bermuda spoke authoritatively while Jaeger kept a protective hand on his shoulder. They were back in his living room.

Wren paled at the sight of his parents tied to their dining room chairs. They were bloody and barely conscious. Wren wanted nothing more than to run to his parents and untie them, but he couldn't undermine Bermuda and Jaeger's authority. Not while they were surrounded by Mafia.

**"Now leave."** Bermuda waved his hand and they all watched the Mafia scramble to leave, just barely holding it together until them. They left all their _tools _behind. And Wren burned with anger that the thought of what they were used for.

Jaeger and Bermuda hovered in the background, waiting for the moment they would be useful again, and watched him run to his parent's side as soon as the Mafia were gone. Wren grabbed one of the bloody knives of the ground and started sawing at the ropes holding his parents to their (soILedbloODyStainED) dining room chairs.

Wren felt like every second they were tied to the chairs was an eternity. They were like this because of him.

Mamma was the first to be untied. But she stayed as limp as before. He frantically checked her pulse, struggling to find anything. Wren cried in relief when he felt a steady thrum, mamma was just asleep.

Unlike mamma, papà was till awake, but all his focus was on the two standing next to the couch. Papà was staring at them in resigned silence. Wren put that aside for now and went to work sawing at the ropes binding his papà.

Wren seemed to go through the rest of the day in a haze. He'd called for an ambulance, and went with his parents to the hospital. Jaeger and Bermuda said they'd be back when he was ready to talk, and he'd just nodded along. The police came by and questioned him. They'd stopped when he'd answered their first question with Vindice. As he was instructed. Occasionally nurses came by and tried to talk with him, seeing him as a normal toddler who saw their parents bruised and bloody.

He'd just wanted to shout at everyone who talked down to him.

* * *

**A/N: huh. so that's what flame he had. btw everyone who guessed cloud were technically right. he does have cloud flames, but they're so overpowered by the night flames they're not even his secondary.**

**some of you may have noticed the addition of the Vindice & Original Character(s) and Vindice tags (on AO3), this is why. the vindice will play an important role in the upcoming chapters.**

**no italian translations this chapter.**

**thanks to reviewers **Artemis291, Naiyuki, **and** silverfoxkurama**! and everyone who have fav and followed so far!**


	4. revelations

Recap:

_Unlike mamma, papà was till awake, but all his focus was on the two standing next to the couch. Pap__à__ was staring at them in resigned silence. Wren put that aside for now and went to work sawing at the ropes binding his papà._

_Wren seemed to go through the rest of the day in a haze. He'd called for an ambulance, and went with his parents to the hospital. Jaeger and Bermuda said they'd be back when he was ready to talk, and he'd just nodded along. The police came by and questioned him. They'd stopped when he'd answered their first question with Vindice. As he was instructed. Occasionally nurses came by and tried to talk with him, seeing him as a normal toddler who saw their parents bruised and bloody._

_He'd just wanted to shout at everyone who talked down to him._

* * *

Wren sat in a chair by his parent's bedside. He'd accepted the tray of food given to him by one of the saccharine nurses. He knew the importance of eating even though you didn't want to, but he just couldn't bring himself to eat.

His parents had ended up between himself and the mafia. Only in trouble because of him. Wren stared blankly at the pasta on the tray.

Mama and papà hadn't woken up yet.

* * *

It took three days for mama and papà to wake up. Another for them to stay awake for any amount of time.

Mamma was the first to start talking. The only one to start. Papà's throat was slashed by the mafia, and would never recover. Wren tried not to blame himself any more than he already did. Mamma and papà wouldn't want him to tear his self apart because of something outside of his control.

So he dutifully ate his food. Slept the eight required hours. Occasionally took Risma's hand and went home to change and take a shower.

* * *

"Renata, I think it's time to answer some questions." Mamma waited six days since the mafia incident to bring it up. The last two days had been filled with idle conversation, avoiding any mention of what had happened.

As relieved as he'd been by this, the anticipation and the suspense was killing him. He sat up a little straighter and looked both mamma and papà in the eyes.

"Why. Why were they torturing us, asking about you?" Papà turned to mamma with pity in his eyes. Wren suspected papà was involved with the mafia at one point. And got out relatively stringless. Wren ignored that theory for now. It was the time for answers.

"They are the Mafia. And they were after me because I have something special in me." Wren paused, getting ready to explain something he didn't even fully understand.

"But first, you have to understand one thing. We all have flames inside us, Dying Will flames. They are awakened when you are in an impossible situation, on the brink of death with no escape." Mamma clenched her hands and Wren forced himself to focus.

"There are seven, normal flame types. Storm, Sky, Sun, Lightning, Rain, Mist, and Cloud. They all have different supernatural properties and colors. I got lucky and managed to get the eighth, most unusual flame type. Because of it's rarity, the mafia want me." Wren made eye contact with papà. Wren recoiled when he saw the horror in his eyes.

"What is it, Renata?" Mamma didn't seem to grasp the situation, it was like she was playing along with him. Like he was making this up, and she was pretending to take him seriously. But it seemed that mamma was asking the questions papà wanted to.

"The night flame. According to Bermuda and Jaeger, it's main ability is to create rips in space. Allowing one to teleport, temporarily defy the laws of time, and create pocket dimensions. A highly desirable, flame to own. Whether it is yours or not." Wren avoided mamma's eyes. She would just look at him with those shallow eyes.

If he wasn't sure before, he was now. Something broke in mamma the day the mafia tortured her in their living room.

Papà nudged mamma, and pointed towards Wren. Mamma took a minute until she understood.

"Are you alright, Renata? They didn't hurt you?" Wren shook his head. His worst injury was a single scratch on his shin.

"They didn't hurt me." Wren hugged his middle.

* * *

Once mamma and papà fell asleep, he trudged to the nearest nurse station. He caught the attention of a nurse who wasn't doing anything.

"Excuse me miss, but where is the nearest general store?" The nurse hesitated before telling him. Only seeing his age, but she must've assumed he was getting the info for a parent.

"Thank you miss." He waved and smiled cutely at the nurse. He wasn't old enough for a lot, but he fully utilized his innocent smile to his advantage. Take what you have and weaponize it. He would have to now that he's stepped in the mafia world. No matter how unwillingly.

Before Wren left the hospital, he counted his money in the lobby. Risma had given him pocket change so he could get drinks and snacks outside of the water fountain and the restricted meal times. He counted seventeen euros. He pocketed his money and walked out the doors into the cold night.

He was counting on the Vindice to protect him from any altercations that may come. He didn't care how presumptuous that sounded, he was going to the store, and if anything happened they would protect him.

Wren stalked to the store. He glared at the workers in the store when they tried to ask where his parents were. They backed of for now. He walked up and down the aisles looking for stationary.

He found it on the third aisle, and grabbed the cheapest notepad and pen set he could find. He threw it on the counter and glared at the cashier until he rung it up.

The walk back to the hospital was brisk and quiet.

* * *

Mamma was asleep when he gave papà the notepad.

"Papà, here." Papà took the butterfly decorated notepad with an almost reverent look. Wren looked away and gave his papà some privacy. Papà probably hadn't even considered writing things until now. He didn't even have a way to ask for one that wasn't charades.

His arms were too cut up to mime earlier. But now they were healed enough so he could now pick up a pen.

The scratching of the pen drew his focus back to his papà. Wren climbed onto his bed and waited.

_How did you get night flames? _Wren cringed at the question. Right off the bat.

"I guess you already know the requirements?" Papà nodded. "I was hoping to wait a bit longer. No time like the present." Papà squinted at him.

Wren sucked in a deep breath and explained. Everything. Papà didn't stop him once, but he seemed to believe everything he said.

_So, do you want to change your name? Renata is pretty feminine._ Wren huffed a laugh at that. He should've know Papà would just accept it. Papà loved him from the very moment he was born. He was always telling him about the first time he held him, and how he grabbed papà's finger and didn't let go. Papà fell in love with him then and there.

"No, but I always liked the nickname Wren." Papà held his arms open, and Wren took the opportunity presented to him. He snuggled up to his papà and fell asleep.

* * *

It didn't take long for word to reach Estraneo and Vongola of a Night flame user. A young, impressionable one.

Feelers were sent out.

* * *

**A/N: heck yeah! happy trans day of visibility! almost missed my self appointed update schedule bc of tumblr.**

**this story is very fly by the seat of my pants, so if there's something you want to see, leave a comment below and i'll see what i can do. mostly because this is a test of patience for me, usually i post a fic and update once a year, so yeah. this is unusual, feedback def helps too.**

**things are ramping up behind the scenes, and wren has come out to his dad. daddo man accepted him and now mom is up next.**

**the only negative reactions (if any) to wren being trans will come from the uber evil guys (ex: estraneo, human traffickers) but nothing detailed or more than a passing mention. i'm not out to make anybody uncomfortable.**


	5. diving in

Mamma and papà were released from the hospital a few weeks later. The doctors told them to take it easy, take their meds, and nearby cheap childcare services. Wren scrunched his face at that last one.

While mamma and papà were in the hospital, Risma took it upon herself to completely redo the living room. She replaced all the furniture that had the slightest of stains, and the dining room chairs. She was right to, because mamma and papà froze in the doorway of the living room.

They seemed to avoid that room after that.

Wren took over making sure mamma took her meds. Mamma wasn't doing so well. But she was trying. Mamma was trying.

* * *

"Wren, are you ready to begin your training?"

Wren's head shot up and hit the wall.

"Ow ow ow... huh?" He opened his eyes and saw Jaeger standing in front of him. In all of his reaper-looking glory. He winced at the sight and bruise forming on his head.

"Are you ready to begin your training?" Jaeger repeated.

"Yeah, just... give me a minute." Wren got up from the couch and made his rounds through the house. He checked on mamma and papà, they were sleeping in their room. The he went to his room and packed a small bag. Only the essentials, extra changes of clothes, tooth paste and toothbrush, and a filled water bottle.

He didn't know how long he'd be gone, or what'd he'd be doing while he was there. Training his flames? What did that mean? Would he have to walk through fire, or some other insane task to ignite his? No, they wouldn't make him do anything that ridiculous. They wouldn't do anything to risk his life.

He locked the doors and left a note for his parents. He didn't know how long he would be gone, but they needed to know. He made one more round around the house, then met up with Jaeger.

"I'm ready." Jaeger held out his hand. Wren took it and stepped through the swirling, inky black cloud.

Night flames felt like a latex suit that didn't stop clinging. They seeped into every crevice, hugging and surrounding. Wren shivered, and stepped forward. He would have to get used to that feeling.

Wren shook off the feeling and looked around. They were in the familiar damp halls. But there were more torches lining the halls. Jaeger tugged him forward.

"We are in Vendicare. Vendicare hosts all of Mafia's criminals, ranging from omertà breakers, to mass murderers. It would do you well to not wander into any room you have not been brought into, or told to go into. Do you understand?" Jaeger stared down at him. Looking for his affirmation.

"Yes." Wren nodded.

"We have to meet with Bermuda first, he will give you your first lesson on night flames, and then I will be the one to give you a more hands on lesson." Jaeger stated, keeping his hold on Wren's hand. Wren nodded, barely keeping up with Jaeger's quick pace.

Wren peered into the doors they passed. He saw all sorts of things, and people. Some of the people seemed normal, and others obviously deserved to be here. Fit the description of a mass murderer.

Wren didn't look too long.

"We're here." Jaeger stopped in front of a door and let go of his hand. Wren blinked at the simplicity of the door. A nudge to his back urged him to open the door. Wren stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.

"Welcome, Wren. Please Sit." Bermuda sat in a high backed chair in front of a fireplace. He gestured to a similar chair to his right. Wren sat in the chair and waited.

Bermuda and Wren sat in silence for a few minutes. Bermuda was contemplating something.

"Wren." His head jerked away from the fire, and towards Bermuda. Bermuda's covered face gave nothing away, but he felt a sense of foreboding regardless. For a split second, Wren thought Bermuda was going to tell him something horrible.

"Yes?" He swallowed.

"You are aware of the heavy burden you bare? As a holder of night flames, you will be hunted for as long as you live." Wren flicked his gave to the fireplace and contemplated what Bermuda said. He already knew his answer.

"I am. I became aware the day I came back to my parents being tortured in our own home." Wren shuddered at the memory. He hated that something outside of his control got his parents hurt. Because of other's greed.

"Good. You should also be aware, that if you are ever to share Vindice secrets, we will be the one's hunting you down." His brows furrowed. That wasn't even on the table for him.

"I'd never dream of that. I could never betray you, I owe you my life Bermuda!" Wren leaned forward, trying to convey his genuineness. Bermuda started laughing, and Wren sat back shocked. He didn't expect that reaction to his words.

"I hope you stay that honest, even when you are knee deep in the mafia." Bermuda had stopped laughing by the time he finished speaking. Wren thought about his words for a few seconds.

"Me too."

"Now that that's over with, let's get started with your lesson. Night flames abilities, as you have already been told are, it's main ability is to create rips in space. Allowing one to teleport, temporarily defy the laws of time, and create pocket dimensions." Bermuda paused.

"There are many applications for rips in space. One can make it so you are untouchable by surrounding yourself with mini rips. A skill that takes years to accomplish. Or, one can rip space in front of you, making it seem like you are teleporting. When you are really removing the space in between you and your target..."

* * *

"We will begin by manifesting your flame. We will be utilizing a shortcut until you have a decent grasp on your flames and have an idea of what they feel like." Jaeger stood in front of him, arms tucked behind his back. He drew out his arms, and in his hand he held a pill bottle. He shook the bottle.

"Before that, we will have to strengthen you body. After your body is strong enough, we will move onto using dying will pills." Wren nodded. Jaeger tucked the bottle back behind him.

"So. Run twenty laps round the room. If you cannot, do at least two more laps than what you think is your limit." Wren looked around the room, and widened his eyes. The room was huge.

"Well? Better to begin now and get it over with." Jaeger stated, a hint of amusement clinging to his words. Wren huffed, and started running.

* * *

**there was some concern about the suicide tag (on ao3), but don't worry no one will actually be committing suicide. also, sorry for not updating in two weeks! i'm graduating in nine days, things are getting hectic. and one last clarification, wren is not, and will never be Reborn (our fav gun toting tutor). the name is just a coincidence.**


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